


War Games

by Synesthete314



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Bloodplay, D/s themes, Dark!Stefan, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Violence, Violence, rape scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synesthete314/pseuds/Synesthete314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stefan and Damon are at war; have been for a long time; will be for a long time. And it's not always clear who wins the battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Games

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings. No seriously.
> 
> Warnings: This fic is rated M for a reason, and it’s not because of the lemons. Dark!fic, abusive relationships, dark!Stefan, early-season-1!Damon, dubious consent, rape scenario, bloodplay, violence, sexual violence, slash, D/s themes, incest. Situations involving all of the above where there is no clear-cut victim or perpetrator. Read at your own risk.

“Did you love her, Damon?” he asks lightly, there is a razor thin edge to his voice, barely detectable.

Damon smiles indulgently, “Does it matter, dear brother?” He’s interested to see where Stefan is going with this.

Damon loves doing this to his brother, pushing him to the edge. Or at least he thinks he loves doing this.

Stefan continues, like he hasn’t even heard Damon speak, “Of course you didn’t, you’ve always been a monster. You said so yourself.” There is a mean edge to his voice. It is off-putting. Stefan isn’t the mean type.

Damon frowns.

Stefan continues, “Perhaps, it’s best that she’s dead—“

“Shut up.”

“—so that you didn’t have the chance to break her heart, when she found out you didn’t love her.”

“Shut up!”

“Or perhaps, you set it up, for your own sick amusement—“

Damon lunges at Stefan, no longer amused, snarling, “Shut up, I said. What does it matter? She’s long gone.”

“Such a strong reaction for someone you never cared about, Damon. You’re slipping. Did you love her, Damon?”

“What do you think?”

Stefan shrugs, still in his brother’s grasp, “Who am I to judge your emotions? But I would guess that no—“

“I loved her.”

The smile on Stefan’s face makes Damon release him and recoil. He’s fallen into the trap. He forgets that Stefan can be like this, so full of rage that he becomes the manipulator and the ball is no longer in Damon’s court. And he falls for it every time.

Drawn in by the darkness he sees in his brother, the darkness he so often encourages, deep enough that he can’t escape when the tide is turned.

“I know you did.” Stefan strokes his fingers down the side of Damon’s face. “I loved her too.”

Damon flinches; he hates this.

“I know why you don’t kill me.”

“And why’s that?” Damon asks, trying to put his façade back up, knowing that Stefan will see right through it.

“Because I am all that you have left to remind you of her.”

It should have been easy to deny that; any other time Damon would have laughed so fucking hard at the sentimentality of that statement, but not right now, not with Stefan so openly malicious. Damon doubts that even if that silly little Katherine-look-alike that Stefan is so fond of (and Damon just wants to eat) were to come along right now that Stefan would be able to pull himself out of this mood.

Although he’ll never admit it, not even to himself, Damon is afraid of his brother. Because he can count on one hand the number of times Stefan has been like this (and it’s only around Damon), and they’re, none of them, times he wants to remember.

“And you’re all I have left of her. She’s our one great weakness, Damon,” Stefan crowds in close when he says this, backing Damon up against the cold, dank basement wall. “And she’s been dead for how many years?” he nearly yells the last bit. “I think that, maybe, that’s why I don’t kill you. Because I should, you know. You are a monster; even if you could  
love her so long ago, you’re evil now. Evil, twisted, and sick.”

In the far corners of his mind, Damon wants to protest. He’s not the one doing this. He’s not the one who’s going to—

But those thoughts are buried under the weight of near mindless No no no, stop stop stop! Because Stefan is way too close now, and his hands are in places not meant for a brother’s hands.

But even those thoughts are quickly silenced, because in another corner of Damon’s mind, he is drawn to that darkness, revels in it, and if it takes submission to have it, well…

He’s shoved roughly against the wall as Stefan presses his body up flush against Damon, and he can tell that Stefan is hard. Stefan bends his head and bites down viciously on his brother’s neck, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to bruise and send a flare of pain down Damon’s spine.

Damon arches forward, gasping, and fists his hands into Stefan’s shirt, whether to push away or pull closer is unclear to even Damon himself.

Stefan takes the opportunity to claim Damon’s mouth in a violent kiss, which Damon instinctively returns without thinking about what he’s doing. The kiss is rough, all tongue and teeth, animalistic and primal, exactly like all the other kisses he and Stefan have shared, all with nothing that remotely resembles what Damon knows of his brother.

Damon pulls away hard, smacking his head back against the wall, “Stefan, stop. You don’t want to do this.” Stefan just growls in his face and tries to reclaim Damon’s mouth. “No! Get the fuck off me.” It’s not that he doesn’t like it rough, but this is his brother and these interludes between them (because they have happened before) never end well, and, fuck, Damon does not want to deal with this.

“Why? You seem to like torturing me. You’ve said so yourself. Why can’t I have the same privilege, especially since you deserve it?” Stefan has pulled back slightly enough to snarl this and clench a hand around the bruise on Damon throat.

“You are not the only one who lost someone in Katherine, Stefan. But she is gone. And, yes, I will haunt you until the end of days. But my “nature,” whatever you think that is, my torment of you, does not absolve you of your sins, and you need to learn to accept that, little brother.”

Damon knows that in this mood all Stefan will hear is the acceptance, not the warning in these words. But he needs to say them, needs to take that final step to the edge of the cliff of his own volition before Stefan pushes him off.

He has a better handle on his emotions now, and while his feelings toward and about Stefan are still dark, violent, tangled, and confused, and his pulse is still high, thrumming steadily through his veins, Damon’s decided he’s going to give as good as he gets. This won’t be one of the worse times, where Damon was so completely caught off-guard that he wasn’t even able to muster the presence of mind that would allow him to consent.

So he says his piece and waits for Stefan to make the next move.

Which comes rapidly on the heels of Damon’s warning. He’s shoved up against the wall and being kissed roughly again, but this time he is fully aware of what’s going on and kisses his brother back because he chooses to.

Stefan makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and Damon shoves his tongue further in, trying to drink in the sound. His hands reach for Stefan’s belt loops, eager to participate, but they are shoved back and pinned against the wall above his head.

The angry glint in Stefan’s eye, his posture, the low growl in his throat all speak of the dominance he’s trying to display over Damon. Normally Damon would relish the opportunity to buck this authority, but he doesn’t feel completely comfortable in the situation (won’t ever feel completely comfortable), just comfortable enough to make this as painless as he can (which is not very painless; because his brother is going to fuck him, and fuck him brutally).

Stefan will expect Damon to try to play the part of aggressor just as much as him, in attempt to win their struggle, but that’s where Stefan’s understanding of his brother breaks down. Because to some extent he’s right, Damon isn’t a good person (Damon knows this; it doesn’t bother him), but Damon knows his brother (has vowed to know him and hurt him for the rest of eternity), and he knows that on the other side of this “brotherly” exchange he will come out far less damaged than Stefan, who is (and this is what makes torturing him so rewarding), at the very least, a semblance of a decent person.

So, no, Damon will not be the aggressor (aggressive, maybe). He will not give Stefan the satisfaction of being able to claim the title of “martyr” or “victim” (he won’t claim them for himself either, he has no need for them) by trying to commit the act that Stefan is going to force on him. Because the knowledge that he can inflict such violence and pain, all on his  
own, will be more torturous for Stefan than anything (physical or psychological) that Damon could dream up.

And that is what Damon lives for now.

So, yes, he will sacrifice his peace of mind, and allow himself to be drawn into the tangled mess of emotion that he has surrounding his brother (he’ll examine it later, or not), and commit incestuous acts that he really has no interest in, because it’ll give him what he wants in the greater scheme of things. And, while he isn’t generally interested in his brother (he doesn’t really care about the taboo of incest one way or the other, why would he?), Stefan is a good lay, and even if he’s not going to enjoy himself all that much, he might as well get a decent orgasm out of the ordeal.

With Damon’s hands pinned above him, Stefan rips through all the buttons on his shirt, throwing scraps of fabric on the ground. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, making Damon hiss and arch. Stefan moves his hands to a bruising grip on his brother’s hips, while Damon’s fist tightly into Stefan’s hair.

When Stefan grazes his teeth over the nipple in his mouth before moving to the other one, Damon isn’t shy about yanking on his hair, making Stefan groan, because although Stefan would never admit it (he thinks it would conflict with his image of being a “good vampire”), Damon knows his brother likes it even rougher than he does.

Damon pulls his brother’s hair again, pulls him up for another bruising kiss before moving to suck on the side of his neck. Stefan makes a small humming noise, head thrown back, as he rakes his fingernails down Damon’s back, leaving gouges that are probably bleeding.

Damon loves necks. Now, it’s fitting, he supposes, but he always has, even when he was human. Loves sucking there, feeding there, biting there, bruising there, smelling there, kissing there, just loves that part of the body, male or female. So hearing Stefan moan and twitch while Damon’s doing all those things to him has Damon hard in seconds, finally catching up (Stefan’s been there for a while now).

He sinks his teeth into the pale flesh and sucks lightly at the blood that flows. It’s not nutritious and doesn’t taste as good as human blood, but blood is blood, and Damon doesn’t really care at this point.

While Damon was preoccupied with his brother’s neck, Stefan has managed to get his own shirt off and decides that apparently he’s had enough. He grips Damon’s throat again, and shoves his head back against the wall again.

“I try to so hard to love you, because you’re my brother. But, Damon, honestly, I hate you right now. I don’t think you deserve to live. I don’t think you deserved her love, or deserved to love her in return. Just so you know,” Stefan growls in Damon’s ear. There’s a pause before he adds, “Don’t worry; you really are all I have left of her. So you’re safe, for now.”

Stefan’s fury burns hot and Damon can see it in his eyes, feel it in his sex, but Damon’s rage is cold and unforgiving, and he has let himself feel it for the last century or so, unlike Stefan who is so repressed. It coils up inside him, solidifying and bringing his hate for his brother to the forefront. Because despite what is happening right now, Stefan has mostly moved on from Katherine, something Damon can never do (he still loves her (and hates her, but that’s another story), despite everything), and he hates his brother for it.  
He brings his hands up to the back of Stefan’s head once more, and drags their faces brutally together, capturing Stefan’s lips. He claws his fingernails down the back of Stefan’s head and neck behind his ears, definitely drawing blood. Damon bites his brother’s bottom lip as he draws away, also drawing blood, a strand of which connects them by lingering on Damon’s own mouth. He lets his hand trail down a bit further until it rests on the bite mark at the base of Stefan’s neck. He presses on it, enough to cause discomfort.

“I fucking hate you too.”

With this, Damon digs his fingers into the puncture wounds of the bite, and draws his fingers downwards toward Stefan’s chest, ripping away strips of flesh, leaving Stefan’s chest and Damon’s fingers bloody.

Stefan makes an enraged noise, which pushes Damon’s buttons in all the right ways, setting fire to his blood. And then Damon suddenly finds himself twisted roughly face first into the wall. And fuck, but that stings a bit. He hears snarling noises, and realizes that they are coming from both of them. His hands are braced on the wall near his head and his legs are twisted until Stefan kicks them wide how he wants them.

Stefan takes a minute to examine his handy work of scratches on Damon’s back. He finds one that is particularly deep and still oozing a bit of blood. He bends down, and Damon can feel the warmth of Stefan’s breath on the cut. Stefan flicks his tongue along the jagged edges of the skin, making Damon groan and his knees quiver, his pants uncomfortably tight. Stefan makes what Damon thinks is one final swipe with his tongue, before digging it deep into the cut. Damon yells in pain, tinged with pleasure as he hears his brother’s moans quietly behind him.

Stefan’s hands reach around to Damon’s front, only bothering with his belt buckle before just ripping off his pants. He changes his position to kneeling behind Damon, biting his way down Damon’s back, leaving more marks wherever he pleases. His hands grip Damon’s hips again, fingers covering the bruises he left earlier, adding a new set on top of the old ones.

Stefan places one last mark at the base of Damon’s spine, before leaning down and swiping his tongue along the crack of Damon’s ass.

“Oh fuck!” Damon chokes out the swear as he feels another swipe of Stefan’s tongue.

He knows Stefan doesn’t like to draw things out, but he’s still caught by surprise when Stefan’s tongue breaches him, quickly followed by two fingers, not sufficiently lubed. The burn of it makes Damon hiss, but if Stefan notices he doesn’t seem to care.

His hips snap forward as Stefan’s fingers brush his prostate, trapping his dick between his body and the wall. It’s not a comfortable position, and Damon grunts in discomfort. This Stefan does notice, as well as Damon’s flagging erection. He keeps his fingers moving against Damon’s prostate as he leans forward, this time to suck one of Damon’s balls into his mouth.

Damon feels his eyes roll back at the sensation and presses his hips backwards towards his brother’s mouth and hand. It takes nearly no time at all for him to be completely hard and leaking again.

Stefan stands up abruptly removing his fingers, not bothering to notice Damon’s wince. He hears the sounds of fumbling with a belt buckle and the sounds of pants hitting the floor behind him. Damon feels his brother’s breath on the back of his neck, and hears him utter the words, as softly and intimately as a lover would, “Hate you,” into his ear before Stefan slides into him steadily, without pause (or proper preparation). The pain of it is too much, and Damon feels both his body and mind try to protest. A low whine of pain escapes his throat, and he twists wildly in Stefan’s grasp.

“Stop,” he whispers involuntarily before he can stop himself, “please.” He’s reminded strongly of why he hates bottoming and of how he hasn’t done this in decades, the last time so similar to now.

Damon hears that growl he’s beginning to hate and his head is wrenched around, so Stefan can take his lips in a kiss. It’s everything Damon needs right now, and everything he doesn’t want from his brother. It’s deep and searching, but not loving nor gentle; it’s intense and passionate, and so full of lust that Damon feels like his head (either one) is going to explode.

During the kiss, Stefan has drawn his hips back, and he slams forward hitting Damon’s prostate on the first stroke. Damon just moans into Stefan’s mouth, who breathes, “Fuck,” at the sensation of it all.

They begin to fuck in earnest now; Damon’s head is back in it, and Stefan is too far-gone to care anymore. Damon pushes his hips back, meeting Stefan thrust for thrust. His hands are braced against the wall, fingers curling, and his legs are beginning to tremble as the pain turns into pleasure.

Stefan’s arms are circled around his brother’s torso, fingers digging in as he pleases, and he’s mouthing at Damon’s neck, nipping lightly here and there. The pace is brutal and unrelenting, and Damon knows his brother won’t last for long.

He feels when Stefan’s thrusts become more erratic, and Stefan’s hand drops lower to grasp Damon’s cock. He holds tight and strokes roughly, just on the painful side of pleasure, and it is so fucking good. Their panting gasps and choked moans fill the air around them, and Damon feels his brother start to lose it.

He clenches around Stefan to make it just that much tighter and hotter, and Stefan slams into him a few more times riding out his orgasm. Stefan then twists his hand just how Damon likes, just like that, and Damon is spilling into his brother’s fist, hot and hard.

Damon leans his forehead against the wall in front of him to catch his breath. He feels Stefan pull shakily out of him and winces slightly at the loss. He straightens up and turns around to face his brother, and he can see the horror dawning on Stefan’s face (in the back of his mind it registers that they’re both bleeding quite a bit). But before that can settle in, Damon reaches forward to stroke his fingers down Stefan’s cheek, drawing him in to one final kiss. It’s deep and scorching and feels like it should be full of meaning, but it isn’t; it just another piece in the game for Damon.

He pulls back, eyes closed, and rests his head against Stefan’s, who’s still looking like a deer in the headlights. He kisses his brother’s forehead before turning and walking away, naked and bloody, knowing that he leaves his brother breaking down behind him.

He hasn’t yet decided whether it would serve him best to help pick up the pieces of the fallout or kick them around before Stefan can gather them up.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: Ok, so, I do have a few other things to say really quick. I have only seen about half of the first season of this show and that was over a year ago. I just found this fic on my hard drive half finished and decided “what the heck, finish it,” so here it is. That said, I have never read nor written anything in this fandom before. So if I screw up the mythology for this canon (like vampires bleeding, crying, etc.), just let me know and I’ll fix it. Also, this takes place relatively early on in Season 1, before Stefan and Elena are even officially a couple. (A final note, more for my peace of mind than anything else. I don’t generally write incest, read it, ship it, or anything else. This fic (at least writing-wise) is so far out of my comfort zone and realm of experience, but if you have a problem with incest, just look elsewhere, the same goes for the slash aspect. However, if you have a problem with how I presented anything else in this fic, drop me a comment; my intent is not to offend, but to write a scene depicting an certain power-dynamic between two fictional characters.)


End file.
